


Kinktober 2020

by euclidsEfinder



Series: The Old Courier [2]
Category: Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 3, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, Consensual Somnophilia, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Edging, Exhibitionism, F/M, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Smut, Somnophilia, Spanking, Synth, i mean its james garret whatd you expect?, sentimental sex, thigh riding, vague mentions of robophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26775709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euclidsEfinder/pseuds/euclidsEfinder
Summary: Kinktober 2020! (On hold)
Relationships: Benny (Fallout)/Swank (Fallout), Courier/James Garret, Harkness/Original Male Character, Male Courier/Arcade Gannon, Male Courier/James Garret, Nova/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character, The King/Pacer
Series: The Old Courier [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080695
Kudos: 32





	1. Mutual Masturbation

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've ever posted something like this, so I'm probably gonna be a bit wank at it lmao. Anyway, I've never written smut before and so I thought that Kinktober would be a good chance to try it out. And what do you know, I'm actually enjoying it. Here's the link to the prompt list I'm using, just in case anyone else fancies giving it a try: https://lustyargonianmaid.tumblr.com/post/627757371721220096/time-to-start-planning-kinktober-fandom-works

‘Swank! Swank, hold the door, will ya!?’ Benny sprints into the lift, hair clinging to his face, hand gripping the tan suitcase so hard, his knuckles are a snowy white. Swank leans forward and outstretches his hand to hold the elevator door.

Benny shimmies past Swank’s arm and all but collapses against the elevator wall, chest heaving and hand going slack, the suitcase thumping to the floor hollowly. Swank chuckles, smoothing a hand through his hair.

‘Why the rush, Ben-Man?’ he asks. Benny glances up, pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiping his face.

‘Needed to-’ he sucks in a deep breath, ‘-needed to get to my suite. This cat’s just hit the jackpot.’ Swank chuckles, knowing better than to pry, even if he is Benny’s right-hand man, and adjusts his tie.

The elevator dings as the pair reach the 13th floor. Swank allows Benny to exit first, stepping out behind him and following him down the corridor. Benny pries his key from his breast pocket, slotting it into his suite door and unlocking it with a sharp, echoey click.

‘Fancy a drink? I won’t charge you this time,’ he says, pushing the door open. Swank smirks.

‘How generous, Ben,’ he chuckles, following his boss into the suite.

It’s a darn sight messier than his, though only very slightly. A couple of papers scattered here and there, some electrical components Swank has no clue about, and a few cigarette butts littering the coffee table.

Benny gestures vaguely for Swank to take a seat as he places the briefcase next to the couch and walks to the bar.

‘What you fancy, Swanky?’ Benny asks, standing on his toes to fumble through his liquor selection. Swank picks up a discarded copy of Salesman Weekly and flicks idly through it.

‘Whatever you’re having, Ben. ‘m not fussy.’ Benny picks out one of his better bottles of whiskey and pops the cork, producing two small glasses and filling them halfway. Swank flicks on the radio and tosses the useless magazine to the floor.

‘So, about that briefcase…’ Swank says, gladly taking the glass from Benny, fingers brushing gently across his hand. Benny doesn’t seem to notice and he comes to sit next to Swank, huffing as he loosens his tie.

‘Swanky, baby,’ he begins, ‘I’m gonna be honest here: that really ain’t none of your business.’ Swank chuckles and sips his whiskey. He kind of had a feeling that’d be the answer he’d receive, but hey, it was worth a try, right? Back in their tribal days, Benny’d tell him everything. Though he supposes that was because they kind of had to, in order to survive. A pang of what Swank can only call “The Good Ol’ Days” hits him in the chest and he suddenly feels heavy, weighty, as he sinks further into the couch. 

‘Hey now, Swanky’ Benny says, slight concern mixed with a chuckle swirling in his voice, ‘don’t go all glossy-eyed on me. I know that look, baby, and it ain’t a good one, especially not on you.’ Swank chuckles and downs the rest of his whiskey, wincing as it burns the back of his throat like concentrated fire.

‘Just thinkin’, Ben. Nothing to worry about, trust me.’ Benny tuts, eyes the empty glass in Swank’s hand.

‘Don’t pull that hokey with me, baby, I know what that look means; you rememberin’ the old days?’ Benny asks before polishing off his whiskey and rising from his seat to grab some beers from the fridge. He eyes the bottle of wine on the top shelf and thinks _ah, what the hell?_ and grabs it, along with a couple of glasses.

‘It’s not like that, Ben, it’s just-- I miss it sometimes, y’know?’ Swank sighs, removing his suit jacket and rolling up the sleeves on his crisp, white shirt. Benny hums and hands him a beer. Swank accepts. ‘You honestly can’t say you ain’t ever thought about goin’ back, surely?’ Benny shucks off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves on his slightly sweat-drenched shirt, mimicking Swank.

‘You’ve got me there, baby,’ he hums, unscrewing the lid of his beer and taking a generous swig. Swank does the same.  
‘But you’ve gotta remember, Swanky; we’re here now, you dig? We’ve got our own casino, baby! And in Vegas, no less!’ Benny grins, gesturing with his hands, careful not to spill anything. ‘What could be better than that?’ Swank sighs.

‘I know, I know, but I can’t help but miss it. The camaraderie was so goddamn _tight_ then, y’know?’ Benny cocks an eyebrow, face dusted with the faint pink glow of alcohol.

‘Tight,’ he deadpans. Swank blinks, nods, and takes a sip of beer before replying.

‘Yeah, man! We used to do everything together, you an’ me.’ Benny chuckles and Swank finishes the rest of his beer.

‘So you’re tellin’ me - and, baby, correct me if I’m wrong now, okay? - you’re tellin’ me that you’d give this up and go back to our tribal days like _that_?’ Benny snaps his fingers for emphasis. Swank shakes his head, reaching for another beer on the coffee table.

‘Not just like _that_ , Ben! God no, I wouldn’t give Vegas up for all the caps in the Mojave. I’d just wanna go back for maybe one night, you feel me?’ Benny chuckles and reaches for another beer, shuffling inconspicuously closer to Swank.

‘Maybe we could, Swanky.’ Swank cocks an eyebrow and sips gingerly at his beer.

‘Now _how_ would you go about doing that?’ he asks, hesitant but inquisitive. Benny shuffles closer, his knee touching his partner’s.

‘Well,’ he begins, ‘there weren’t many women back then, where there? You catch my train, baby?’ Swank’s find fumbles and he startles as Benny’s hand comes to rest on his knee.

‘Ben, I--’ Swank’s mind goes blank as he feels the heat from Benny’s hand spread out across his body. ‘Ben, how much have you-- have you had? You’re not just gonna give us a quick wham-bam, are you?’ Swank chuckles nervously, hands fiddling with the long-worn label on his beer bottle, as Benny’s hand travels higher.

‘You say the word, baby, I’m right here. Now you know I don’t usually bat for the other team, but if it’s only for tonight, then I think I can give it a few swings.’ Benny’s hand stills just next to Swank’s fly, resting on his inner-thigh. Swank’s mind goes blank, white heat spreading behind his eyes, and he has to remind himself to _breathe, damnit_ , otherwise he’ll pass out. Finally, he nods with a stiff swallow.

‘Thought you’d say yes, baby.’ With that, Benny leans forwards and catches Swank’s lips in a roughly tender kiss. Swank has to pull back briefly to place his and Benny’s beers on the coffee table, and barely has enough time to turn back before Benny grasps the back of his neck with a calloused hand and pulls him back for another kiss, this one rougher than the last. Swank brings his hands up to card through Benny’s hair, soft and somewhat knotty, and Benny moves his hand up Swank’s thigh to cup his bulge. Swank groans unintentionally, and tightens his grasp in Benny’s hair, tugging at the brownish-blackish strands, pulling him closer. There’s a bite at his lip and Swank opens his mouth, feels Benny’s liquor-touched tongue grace his and he whimpers. Benny pulls back and Swank releases his grip in his hair, hand dropping to the other man's shoulder.

‘You, uh,’ Benny clears his throat, adjusts his trousers, ‘you wanna take this to the bedroom?’ Swank nods emphatically and Benny takes his hand, dragging him away from the couch. It’s something tender, and Swank has to squash down any sort of romantic feelings he may or may not have because _fuck_ that.

Almost as soon as they enter his room, Benny’s back at his lips, pushing him against the door, and _Christ_ , if Swank didn’t feel good before, he certainly does now. Benny pushes his leg between Swank’s thighs and Swank tries in vain to stop the noise that tears itself from his throat.

‘B-Ben, _fuck_ ,’ he stutters, Benny’s hands at his waist.

‘Tell me what you want,’ the other man whispers against his lips, and Swank thinks he could just cum right here, right now, with the voice he’s using. ‘Do you want me to fuck you?’ Swank bites the inside of his cheek but shakes his head and Benny doesn’t falter one bit, instead resuming his assault on Swank’s lips. It’s too much, for Swank to have sex with Benny, way too much, so he begs his brain to function for at least a fucking _moment_ so he can come up with another way to go about this.

Swank breaks the kiss with a whine and stares down at the shorter man, managing to gasp out, ‘I want to-- I want to get off with you.’ Benny grins and pulls Swank down by his tie for a short kiss before he throws the other man down onto his bed, coming to straddle him shortly after.

‘ _Fuck_ , Benny. I missed this,’ Swank gasps as Benny deftly unbuttons his shirt, dropping the item of clothing along with the silk black tie before making quick work of Swank’s clothes. Swank allows himself to stare at Benny’s bare chest, clean-shaven and tan, just like the rest of him. Benny smirks and grips Swank’s chin, pulling him up to catch him in a messy kiss as he grinds down onto Swank’s cock, still trapped beneath two layers of constrictive clothing. Swank moans and bucks his hips up, trying stiffly to just remain still, because holy fuck, Benny definitely knows what he’s doing.

‘Ben, I want you _right_ _now_ ,’ Swank gasps as Benny moves from his mouth and to his neck, sucking small little marks onto it that Swank is sure he’s not going to be able to hide tomorrow.

‘You got me, baby,’ Benny murmurs against his skin and oh Christ, it feels too good to have Benny like this.

The other man sits up slightly as he unbuttons Swank’s trousers, pulling them to his ankles before realising he’s still wearing shoes. Chuckling, Benny removes them, along with Swank’s socks, and finally slides his trousers off. Swank swallows thickly as Benny eyes him hungrily, drinking in the lean figure of his counterpart.

‘Baby you’ve changed since the old days, haven’t you?’ he asks, running his palm along the length of Swank’s cock. Swank swallows down a moan and simply nods, not trusting his voice to come out as anything but a soft whimper. Smirking, Benny removes his shoes and socks, before slowly popping the button on his trousers, and Swank just _stares_.

‘You like what you see, baby?’ Benny asks, unzipping his flies and pulling down the thin material so slowly it’s almost antagonising. Shuffling slightly, Benny finally peels off the trousers and tosses them to the side and Swank fucking shivers at the sight of him.  
‘Benny, please-’ Swank gasps as Benny dips his head into the crook of his neck and bites softly, licking the mark he’s made. Swank bucks up and Benny groans against his throat as their cocks meet.

‘Benny, _please_ ,’ Swank huffs out. Benny grazes his nails down Swank’s flank until he reaches his underwear. Swallowing, Benny’s mouth against his Adam’s apple, Swank allows himself to be completely at the mercy of his boss. Usually, Swank’s the one to take control, the one to be on top and on top of things, but he just can’t find it in him to switch positions. It’s almost as if Benny has him chained to the bed, forcing him to drown in the sweet scent of sweat and whiskey and a musk that’s just truly, utterly _Benny_.

‘Fuck, baby, you’ve definitely missed this, ain’t you?’ Benny muses as he discards Swank’s boxers, bringing a hand up to his cock and giving it a thick pump. Swank groans, low and guttural, and bucks up into Benny’s touch.

‘I wanna see you too, Ben,’ he manages to choke out between breathy gasps, biting his lip as Benny runs his thumb over the slit of his cock. Benny grins and leans back onto Swank’s knees to peel off his briefs. Swank would almost chuckle at the other man’s choice of underwear if he wasn’t so sure he’d just moan embarrassingly loud.

Benny, finally stripped of everything, leans forwards to kiss Swank. It’s messy, full of tongue and sharp teeth, and even Benny himself gasps into Swank’s mouth as the man below grinds up against his cock.

Swank takes initiative, fueled by Benny’s sudden showing of weakness, and reaches between the two to grasp both of their cocks in his hand. Benny chokes out a desperate moan, breaking the kiss and subconsciously bucking into Swank’s hand.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Benny gasps, composure shattering, mouth grazing Swank’s jaw. Swank gasps, moving his hand against their dicks hard and fast, precum spilling down and dripping against his pelvis

‘Swanky baby, I-’ Benny swallows, head dipping into the crook of Swank’s neck, harsh, shallow breaths puffing from, in Swank’s opinion, the most beautiful pair of lips in all of Vegas. ‘I don’t know how long I’m gonna last with you being all hard and fast like this.’ Swank bites his his lip and brings his free hand up to Benny’s hair, tugging it so hard he's nearly worried it hurts, and Benny makes a sound, a mix between a whine and a gasp, that Swank knows he’s not going forget.

‘Benny, it’s - oh _fuck_ \- it’s fine,’ he gasps, the feeling of Benny tensing against him sending sharp waves of arousal coursing through his veins. Swank moves his hand from Benny’s hair and down his back until he reaches his ass. Benny jolts, stills as Swank grips him.

‘Baby, I’m-’ he breathes, face buried in the crook of Swank’s neck. Swank simply nods, kneading the flesh of Benny’s ass, working the hand around their cocks in a quick, unsteady pace.

Benny digs his teeth into Swank’s shoulder and tenses, a harsh groan ripping itself from his throat as he spills over Swank’s cock and hand. Swank whimpers, digs his nails into Benny’s ass, as he follows quickly after, spilling over both of them.

Benny huffs against Swank’s skin, warm and tired, and Swank maneuvers his hand from beneath him to grab his shirt and wipe up their mess. Benny rolls off the top of him, undignified and ungraceful, and Swank plants a soft kiss to his temple as he cleans him off, thoughts of “what now?” swirling around his head.

Tossing the shirt to the floor, Swank curls up into Benny’s side and pulls the blanket over the two of them. Benny wraps his arm over Swank’s shoulders.

‘How was _that_ for tribal?’


	2. Dirty Talk

James Garret huffs, chin resting on his pale hand, as he stares at the blank faces in his casino, dimly lit by the ceiling lights and the shiny slot machines. He sighs.

He was almost one-hundred-percent _sure_ that the strange courier would be back with his robot by now. Sure, the guy seemed a little slow in the head, but he’d mentioned that Ralph had programmed a holotape or some terminal doohickey for the robot to take in order for it to - ahem - _perform_. Surely the guy should be back now.

‘James!’ James jolts, head slipping from his hand and almost slamming into the counter. Looking up reveals the owner of the coarse voice: the courier. _Damn_ , he thinks, _that’s some fucking fantastic timing_ . There’s an odd clanking but James can’t decipher from what, due to the courier standing in his way. _If that’s people screwing on the table again, I swear-_

‘I got that robot you asked for,’ the courier grins, leaning forwards until his elbows touch the table. It looks uncomfortable, and James assumes the man underestimated the distance he’d have to lean to reach it, but he doesn’t move. If anything, he seems to commit to it more. 

‘Oh have you now?' James asks, eyebrow cocked and disbelieving. ‘Then where is it?’ The courier leans just far enough for James to see the area near the stage and-- Jesus Christ, there it is. Standing a few mere metres from the bar is the robot. And _fuck_ , it looks massive. 

James swallows, eyes the door where Francine’s sleeping. What would she think if she saw the tin-can in the lobby? Probably think he’d gone bloody insane, though she’s never really questioned him with things like this. A small thing James has always been grateful for. Sure, no one messes with the Garret Twins, but they also don’t mess with each other. Family rule and all that jazz.

‘So uh…’ James feels himself perspire. Shit, what if the robot’s too big? If it has a dick, it’s surely gonna be fucking huge like the rest of it, isn’t it? Well, maybe it has other ways of...satisfying. Maybe it vibrates? James _has_ read some old pre-war mags saying that things called vibrators existed, perhaps the robot acts as one of those. Although-

‘So,’ the courier begins, interrupting James’ tangled train of thought, ‘my payment?’ James hesitates. If the thing’s too much to handle, would he get a refund? The courier guy doesn’t seem to even remember his own name, James highly doubts he’d remember a business deal. Goddamnit, why did the one dude who’d offered to help him out have less brains than a bloatfly?

‘If it’s not to the, uh, _customers’_ standards, I’ll be fully compensated, won’t I?’ James asks. It’s more like a demand, really, but what can he say? He’s a good businessman. The courier cocks his head, strands of greasy ginger hair falling into his face.

‘You know what,’ he begins, reaching in his breast pocket and producing a pack of smokes. They’re waved in Jame’s general direction and James nods before taking one, allowing the courier to light it with an engraved lighter. The engraving is something vaguely familiar, though he doesn’t know why. The courier continues, ‘I’ll take a different payment. Surely a handsome man like yourself can come up with something.’ James doesn’t like to admit, but he flushes at that. He must say, it’s been a damn while since someone’s shown an interest in him, that’s for sure. And hey, it’s nice to get compliments, right? The courier probably didn’t mean anything by it, anyhow.

‘What did you have in mind?’ he asks, fiddling with the lit cigarette in his hand. The courier blows smoke from the corner of his mouth and glances back to the robot. The tin-can’s already attracted some attention and James feels the familiar heat of jealousy bubble up in his gut. Maybe he should just turn the offer down.

‘Come on,’ the courier chuckles. ‘You’re a hot guy, what do you think I want?’ James goes a splotchy red and takes a drag on his cigarette. The courier notices and smirks.

‘Bet you’ve got a lot of people lining up to suck you off though, so I suppose I’m not too special. Still, I’d do almost anything to get my lips on you. Bet you taste good, what with the high life you’re living here.’ James would argue that this was only the high of the lows, what he has here, but the tightening of his pants prevents him from doing anything, saying anything. The courier all but beams as he wraps his red lips around the filter of his cigarette.

‘Bet you’re good in bed, too. I’d take a guess and say you were a top. Though, judging by my good friend FISTO over there-’ the courier gestures with a thumb over his shoulder to the robot ‘-you might like to get fucked, too. Don’t look at me like that, James baby, I can see right through you. I may be far from intelligent, but I know my way around men. And inside of men, come to think of it.’ It takes almost all of James’ will-power not to grind into the bar in front of him. Shit, this guy’s good. A real smooth-talker. Maybe he should employ him and lay off Santiago. Or perhaps he could keep both. The bubble of jealousy rises up in his throat at the thought of someone taking the courier from him and James fights to shove it down.

‘I’d let you fuck me, if you were nervous.’ The courier sucks on his cigarette, maintaining eye-contact with James. The casino-owner bites the inside of his cheek. ‘I’d let you go at me so hard, I wouldn’t be able to walk for weeks. Let you fill me up, let you make me yours. I wouldn’t mind, sweetheart.’ James lets out a small noise, not quite a whimper, though it’s damn close, and the courier’s pupils dilate.

‘Fuck, you’re pretty, James. Surprised no one’s claimed you yet. Or let themselves be claimed _by_ you. Shit, I’d love that. Bet you’d be so fucking good inside-’ 

‘I think we need to talk somewhere a little more private,’ James interrupts. The courier grins and stubs out his cigarette in the chipped glass ashtray just next to James’ elbow. The man brushes against it, and James shivers, the small slice of contact providing James with much-needed physical attention.

‘Whatever you say, baby. Should I bring my good ol’ pally FISTO with us?’ James considers as he walks around the bar to face the courier, his gait a little stiffer due to the thick tightness of his dress pants.

‘No,’ he mumbles, the courier gently gripping the nape of James’ neck and pulling him closer. ‘No, I think I’ll just have you.’ The courier beams and James flicks the spent cigarette to the floor before leading the way to the bedroom upstairs. Francine can deal with the consequences when her shift starts in a few. He just wants to fuck the courier until the man screams his name.


	3. Dom & Sub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harkness and Cain try out something new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for reference, Harkness (or A3-21)'s name is Mayson, because I thought that our robo-boy needed some more love

Mayson straddles Cain, both the men’s shirts tossed to the ground, and leans down to his ear.

‘Get on your hands and knees,’ he growls, voice low and rumbling. Cain swallows, smirking, and shakes his head.

‘God, is _this_ what you meant when you said you wanted to try something different?’ he chuckles, nipping gently at Mayson’s neck. ‘I must say, I’m fucking surprised you’d even try doing something like this. Not that I’m not into it, it just comes as a surprise, y’know?’ Mayson snarls and pins Cain to the bed with his hands, standing up so he can get an advantage over the taller man.

‘I said get on your hands and knees, _whore_ ,’ he hisses. A cold shiver runs down Cain’s spine and all he can do is acquiesce, shuffling round and perching himself on his elbows for Mayson. He feels a cool hand peel off his underwear and grasp the flesh of his ass. Cain bites back an undignified sound. He doesn’t want to give Mayson the satisfaction of getting to him. Not yet, anyway.

‘That’s it,’ Mayson coos, the bed dipping as he kneels behind Cain. ‘You’ll do as I say from now on, won't you?’ Cain wants to argue, to fight back in order to reassert dominance, but the feeling of the blunt head of Mayson’s cock pressing against his entrance shuts him right up. There’s a hand at the back of his neck, pushing his head down, and Cain squeaks.

‘ _Won’t you_?’ Mayson all-but growls, bending over Cain and running his teeth along the shell of his ear.

‘Yes,’ Cain huffs out, voice scratchy and breathy. All composure is lost as Mayson pushes in, prep fucking forgotten as he begins roughly hammering into Cain’s tight ass.

‘ _Shit_ May,’ Cain breathes, head bowed, long black hair covering his face. Mayson grips his hair and pulls his head back, arching Cain’s back until he’s almost completely flush against him. Cain whimpers.

‘Did I give you permission to talk to me, whore?’ Mayson hisses, pushing harder into Cain’s ass. Cain grits his teeth and shakes his head, though the action’s borderline impossible, what with Mayson’s tight grip in his hair.

‘Sorry,’ Mayson puffs out, his angry facade almost slipping as a slight moan escapes his lips, ‘I didn’t catch that.’ Cain flushes, feels his throat tighten, and shit, he’s close. It’s almost pathetic, how quickly he feels the familiar heat coil in his stomach, but Cain’s mind fogs up as Mayson hits that position in his ass _just right_.

‘N-no sir,’ he whispers, a harsh grunt pulling itself from his lips as he replies. Mayson chuckles, the vibrations coursing through Cain’s sweat-drenched skin, and Cain knows he’s not gonna last long.

‘What a good boy, obeying orders, speaking only when spoken to,’ Mayson murmurs, pulling Cain closer to him and biting his lip to prevent any sound from escaping. Cain moans at the praise, fake or not, and cums over his bedsheets, untouched and so fucking _hard_.

‘Such a good boy,’ Mayson whispers, nipping the shell of Cain’s ear as he finishes inside him with a grunt, pushing Cain down face-first onto the bed. Cain lets out a small “eugh” as he lands in his own jizz, but makes no other protests. Mayson moves from the bed to grab a spare t-shirt from Cain’s laundry to mop up the mess.

Mayson doesn’t stay long, says he has a meeting to attend, though he presses an unexpected tender kiss between Cain’s shoulder blades and bids him a good evening as he slips out the door and into the steel hallway. It’s the most kindness Cain’s ever seen from Mayson post-sex and he makes a note to himself to try this sort of shit out more often if this is the sort of treatment he’ll get after.


	4. Somnophilia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swank gets a note from Benny to meet him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's got slight dub-con aspects to it, though both parties are consenting. If that's not your style, then by all means, please feel free to skip this chapter :D

Benny’d left out a note for Swank to find. At least, Swank thinks it’s for him, it was addressed simply to the letter S, so Swank had naturally assumed it was for him. Though, now he thinks about it, it may be addressed to that one girl, Shannon, Benny’s been seeing recently. Well, whatever. If it is, he’ll just leave, no hard feelings, maybe head to Gomorrah to blow off steam, no big deal. 

The lift dings and Swank straightens his tie as he walks to Benny’s suite, spare key already in hand. Unlocking the door, Swank wipes his feet on the doormat and steps into the main room. 

There’s no sign of Benny.  
This cat better not be playing, Swank thinks bitterly to himself, pulling the cuffs of his suit jacket down and brushing some lint off his shoulder. Not that Benny’d really see, anyway.

Swank considers calling out, but then decides against it, his mouth opening briefly, then closing. If he shouts, it could cock up everything Benny’s set up for them (if it even is for them, Benny and Swank, and not just one of Benny’s call-girls). So, staying silent, Swank heads towards the door to Benny’s room and, taking a much-needed deep breath, pushes it open.

Benny’s laying on his side in his underwear, head on his arm, and Swank has the fleeting realisation that shit, this is happening. He almost backs out again, but...who would he be if he didn’t at least try?

Swank removes his suit jacket and drapes it across the back of a chair before unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. He’s got an idea.

Swank lowers himself to the bed so slowly, he’s worried he might actually draw more attention to himself than he would just flopping down next to Benny. When he’s finally lowered down, face in front of Benny’s Y-fronts (why the hell he actually wears those and not something more comfortable, Swank will never know), Swank breathes a sigh of relief through his nose. Benny moves at the sensation of cool air being blown at his cock and Swank stiffens, worried for about the millionth time that he’s not really gotten the message right and that maybe he should just leave. But he doesn’t, arousal already having gotten its grasp on him. If it’s all just a misunderstanding, he’ll apologise, pay some money to Ben just to make sure he knows he’s truly sorry, and then take unpaid leave for about five months to avoid the crippling embarrassment.

But fuck that; right now, Swank’s focusing on peeling off the offending Y-fronts just far enough so that he can get his mouth around Benny’s dick. It’s soft, flaccid, but that doesn’t deter Swank. If anything, it makes him want this more. The idea that Benny’ll be waking up to a blowjob - and from his right-hand man, no less - makes Swank’s insides do loops that go straight to his cock.

Taking Benny’s limp cock into his mouth sends shivers down Swank’s spine, and he sucks lightly so as not to wake Benny just yet. Holy Jesus, if he’d known how good this’d feel, he’d have offered himself up to be sucked off in his sleep.

Benny murmurs in his sleep but Swank ignores him in favour of lapping at the head of his dick. It’s slowly becoming harder, and the feeling of achievement is strong in the back of Swank’s mind (and throat). He licks the soft head and travels further down, as far as he can go, and just stays there for a moment.

Benny makes a tiny sound above him, and Swank’s eyes flicker up to see his brow furrowed in his sleep. Fighting back a moan that’d surely wake Benny up, Swank pulls up and bobs his head at the tip of Benny’s almost fully-hard cock. Benny genty bucks his hips into Swank’s throat and Swank almost chokes from the shock of it.

He wonders if Benny’s doing anything in his dream, maybe something like fucking someone’s tight ass and finishing inside them. At that, Swank does groan, and he feel’s Benny stir above him, finally waking up.

There’s a hand in his hair, pushing him down, and Swank hums as he takes as much of Benny in as he can, jerking the part that he can’t. He’s having to lean on his left arm and it’s long-gone numb by now, but the feeling of Benny’s hot cock against his tongue takes over.

‘Fucl, baby, I’m guessing you got my little letter,’ Benny whispers from above, voice gravelly from sleep. Swank only looks up from beneath his lashes and hums around Benny’s dick, watching with great pleasure the shift of Benny’s facial expression.

Swank reaches down and palms at his own erection, moaning around Benny’s shaft as he does. The grip in his hair tightens and Benny’s fucks into his mouth, almost choking Swank but not quite, like he’s conscious of his pal’s safety. Maybe he is.

Swank moans again and Benny curses quietly above him, tugging the dark strands of hair as he fucks into his right-hand man’s mouth. Swank can tell he’s close, so he maneuvers his arm from beneath him to massage Benny’s balls.

That’s what pushes Benny over the edge. He pulls Swank’s mouth from him and cums over his face, dripping a little onto his pristine dress shirt. Swank sticks his tongue out to catch a few drops, acutely aware of how absurd he must look, hard and straining against his trousers with his mouth open, but he doesn’t care.


	5. Thigh Riding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcade hasn't seen Six for a while and wants to try something out. Sex isn't an option, not where they are, anyway.

‘Arcade,’ Six gasped, hands gripping the doctor’s hair as he nipped Six’s neck, ‘we can’t do this here.’ Arcade hummed, slipping a leg between Six’s, hands tugging at his undershirt.

‘I know,’ the doctor huffed, breath hot against Six’s wet neck. ‘I know.’ Six sucked in a sharp breath and looked around the tent. Just doing something like this in a place called “Old Mormon Fort” sounded sinful, even to Six’s slow ears. Would the founder of this place be happy? Six didn't think so, but will Arcade whispering sinful things into his ears, he couldn't find it in him to care.

Six bit his tongue as Arcade moved his mouth from his neck to his plump lips, sloppy and rough, hands tugging at his greasy ginger hair. When Arcade pulled away, Six asked, ‘Are you gonna fuck me?’ Arcade shook his head and tugged again at Six’s shirt. Six obliged and all but tore off the item of clothing, already working on undoing his jeans. Arcade smirked, silently proud that he was able to turn this hunk of a man into a pliant mess.

‘What you gonna do?’ Six asked, head cocked to the side. Arcade leaned forward and motioned for Six to turn around. After shucking off his jeans and pants, Six, now naked, turned around and let himself be guided by Arcade’s warm hands until his bare ass touched the other man’s thigh. 

‘Now,’ Arcade whispered, mouth close to the shell of Six’s ear, ‘entertain yourself.’ Six frowned and craned his neck back to see Arcade.

‘How?’ he asked. ‘You’re not inside me and I’m not inside you.’ Arcade chuckled, a low rumble that shook through Six’s body, and wrapped his arms around Six’s torso.

‘Just try rocking, Six,’ Arcade whispered, nippig at Six’s ear. Six nodded and bucked forward.

‘Oh shit,’ he mumbled. Arcade lifted his knee up and rested his foot on the table in front of them, angling his leg in a way in which Six could get the most friction.

Six pressed forward into Arcade’s leg and let out a soft huff, pulling back and pushing forward again.

Arcade shifted, pressing his clothed erection into the crook of Six’s ass, sighing as Six pressed back into him.

‘You alright there?’ Arcade asked, pressing up harder against Six. Six bit his lip and nodded.

‘Can I touch myself?’ he gasped, body shaking slightly. Arcade brought his lips to Six’s shoulder and moved his hand to Six’s cock. Six whimpered and pressed his back into Arcade’s chest.

‘I’ll do that for you,’ Arcade hummed, moving his hand along Six’s shaft. Six writhed under the touch and moaned, panting slightly.

‘Arcade, I’m not gonna last,’ he gasped, bucking up violently into Arcade’s fist. Arcade chuckled and swiped his thumb over the slit of Six’s cock, precum smearing over his hand.

‘Really? The God of sex himself can’t last long simply because of a thigh and a hand?’ Arcade pumped faster, relishing the sound he dragged from the usually dominant man.

‘Arcade, I haven’t - shit shit shit - I haven’t jerked off for a week.’ There’s a choked off sob at the end of Six’s sentence and Arcade can’t hide his groan, bucking up into Six’s ass.

‘Been waiting for me?’ Arcade hummed, gently tracing the back of Six’s neck with his teeth. Six nodded with a whine.

‘Fuck Arcade, been waiting so long.’ Arcade moved his other hand round to cup Six’s balls, hand around Six’s shaft twisting, eliciting a broken moan from the other man. Arcade’s acutely aware of the fact that it was early morning and that there were patients that needed sleep, but shit, if he hadn’t been waiting for Six to get back from his trip so he could get his hands on him, he'd be blatantly lying.

‘Arcade, I wanna cum,’ Six moaned, biting the inside of his cheek to stifle any other sounds that might escape. Arcade purred against the other man’s tanned skin, and bit down, muttering, ‘Go on baby' against his shoulder.

It took a few more pumps for Six to cum, staining Arcade’s work chinos and the end of his lab coat. Arcade grunted at the sight and pushed up against Six. It wasn't enough to finish him off, but that's alright. Six huffed and slumped against Arcade.

'I missed you,' he mumbled, eyes already heavy with sleep. Arcade cursed the man's hormones but, nevertheless, kissed the top of his head.

'Me too.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this one's a bit shit. I wanted to get something out for you guys, but I was exhausted when I wrote it so it's a little lackluster. I also know it wasn't strictly thigh riding, but I couldn't really think of how to write it lol
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!


	6. Update!

Hi! I'm so so _so_ sorry that I haven't been updating recently. I haven't forgotten or given up on the challenge, I've just been having some issues surrounding my mental health, which cocks up my writing a lot of the time. I promise that I'm still working on the kinktober challenge, though the updates may be quite slow and could possibly ride over into November.

Thank you all so much for being patient with me, and I look forward to posting more works soon!


	7. Update! (Again lmao)

Hiya! I'm honestly so sorry I haven't updated this work, I've been dealing with a whole bunch of personal stuff that needed sorting out so I couldn't really write much. BUT! I'm not giving up on finishing this whatsoever. I've decided that it may take another month or two for me to complete (and, in the meantime, I may be posting some other things just to take a break), but I _will_ complete it, I promise you all. 

Thank you all so much for being patient with me, and I hope you all have a fucking amazing Halloween tomorrow!


	8. Edging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A weird thing with Boone goes down that leaves Manny confused, upset and hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I finally got back into the groove of things, and I managed to write this for y'all to have a read :D If I can, I might be posting another chapter tomorrow, but I can't promise. Hope you guys enjoy!

Manny stares up at the ceiling of his room, at the cracked and peeling paint that dangled dangerously above his head. 

But that didn’t really concern him. What concerned him was that Boone was in the room just below him. The statement on its own didn’t cause him any fear or discomfort, it was what had happened before that caused this blossoming nervousness to bloom just below his chest, like those pre-war blossom trees that used to bud around spring.

Manny can still feel the burning kiss on his chapped lips, despite it being an hour later. It’s like someone’s branded him, and his lips are scarred and ruined with flame and red-hot iron. He can hear Boone pottering around in the room below him; the dull slam of cupboards and the harsh clink of glass bottles just managing to float their way up into Manny’s room.

He grinds down onto the mattress, shame wrapping around his neck and tightening his throat and he whines gently into his pillow. None of this was fair. Boone kissing _him_ , getting drunk on _his_ alcohol and then blaming _him_ for shoving his tongue down Manny’s throat was just unfair. Blundering out of Manny’s apartment with a bottle of cheap scotch and leaving the other sniper hard and confused wasn’t even unfair, it was downright cruel.

But, even now, Manny forgives him, hopes that the tough bastard will just snap out of it all and realise that all these drunken kisses that he’s initiated are more than simple kisses. 

Though even Manny knows he’s fooling himself with that. So he ignores the wishful thinking in favour of stuffing a rushed hand down his pants and stroking hurriedly at half-hard cock. Boone’s lips still burn at his and Manny pants as he imagines those lips around his cock, slick and warm and welcoming. The amount of times he’s imagined this is almost at triple digits, and he’d be concerned if not for the fact that it felt _so damn good_. 

Manny shifts onto his back and pulls down his pants fully, and gasps as the cool air of his room hits the sensitive skin. Usually, he’d rush this sort of thing, get it over with before the guilt could settle in properly, but he doesn’t this time. To hell with it. So what if guilt kicks in? What’s it gonna do, stop him from jerking off ever again? Un-fucking-likely. Manny strips fully, so he’s stark naked, and lies back on the bulky mattress. Slowly, he drifts a hand down his chest, teases his nipples before dipping lower and wrapping a warm hand around his uncut cock.

Images of Boone stepping into his room to apologise and just being met with the sight of Manny, hard, leaking cock in hand, flood Manny’s mind and he finds himself wanting Boone to just give in and fuck him, hard and raw, until he cums right up against him.

Manny bites back a moan at the thought and picks up the pace slightly, the wet slick sounds of his loose fist around his cock the only sound in his room. He knows he’s close, though knows he’s not ready to finish. This is the first time he’s not felt that looming presence of guilt, and Christ knows he’s not gonna let that shit go.

He doesn’t even try to silence himself when he feels his cock pulse in his fist, and he almost cries when he pulls his hand from around him, throws it up to grasp at his hair just to stop him from grabbing his cock and finishing off.

Manny thrusts into the air futilely, trying to gain some friction, and his cock twitches desperately against his navel. Only a few moments pass before Manny can’t take it anymore and he almost violently wraps his hand around his cock.

It takes only a few more frantic tugs before he’s cumming over his fist and bedsheets, a feverish cry of “ _Craig,_ **_fuck_** _!_ ” ripping itself from his lips. He pants and goes almost completely limp, chest rising and falling as he gulps in breaths of air, the thin sheen of sweat across chest cooling with every intake of oxygen

Once he’s caught his breath, Manny slides himself out of bed and pads over to the bathroom to grab some tissues to clean up the mess he’s made over his navel. And hand. And...most of his bedsheets.


	9. Spanking

Cain wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck, puffed warm air past the unlit cigarette in his lips as he stared up at the moon. The stars were bright, silvery little glints plastered all over the thick navy sky, and Cain’s eyes glinted in the light illuminating the door to Moriarty’s Saloon. Fiddling in his coat pocket, he grasped his lighter and flicked it open, watching as the flame trembled against the cold breeze. Shielding the flame with his hands, Cain brought up the cigarette in his lips and lit it, puffing out smoke from the side of his mouth as he flipped shut the lighter. 

Warm laughter and the clink of bottles floated from the saloon, and, to someone who didn’t know what went on in there, it would seem as though people were having fun, enjoying themselves and drinking just to socialise.

But Cain knew that was wrong; this wasn’t some sort of pre-war fantasy, where people had friendships and families. This was the nuclear wasteland, where friends stabbed you in the back and your family was ready to kill you at a moment’s notice.

Puffing out another breath of smoke, Cain finally stubbed out the cigarette against the wall of the saloon and pushed open the door.

There was a waft of warmth that smacked Cain in the face, and he winced at the sudden change of temperature. Nova smiled at him from her position just to the side of the bar, and Cain smiled back, added a wink just to make sure she knew what was up.

Gob glanced up, but only briefly, out of the fear that Moriarty would strike him, and mumbled an offer to Cain of a drink. Cain glared at Moriarty, who was leaning out the backroom, and smiled warmly up at Gob.

‘I’ll have a finger of whiskey please, Gob,’ he asked, cool and collected, and watched out the corner of his eye as Moriarty snarled. Gob nodded and went about filling his glass with a bottle of - what Cain would assume to be - bootlegged whiskey. With one last glare shot to Moriarty, Cain thanked Gob and passed over a handful of caps, tipping him once Moriarty retreated to his room. Gob all but beamed as he pocketed the extra caps, and Cain tipped his glass to him as a “you’re welcome” before he took another sip.

Footsteps clicked closer, and Cain tipped his head up slightly to see the slim figure of Nova, her red hair framing her pale, delicate face. He smirked, and she smirked back, her rouged lips pulling into a practised smile.

She snaked a hand along his shoulders and leaned in, ‘A little birdy told me you were back in town,’ she hummed. Cain chuckled and nodded before throwing back his whiskey.

‘Just for a couple of days.’ Nova’s eyes glinted something dangerous and Cain grinned, turned to face her fully. Nova leaned forward, closer, and breathed hot breath onto his cold cheek.

‘And why, pray tell, didn’t you come to find me? It’s been awfully lonely without you.’ Nova purred gently against Cain’s stubble, and Cain stared half-lidded up at her. 

‘I had to take care of some business,’ he replied simply, leaning into Nova’s face. She tutted, placed a finger on his lips and shook her head.

‘No, no, no,’ she murmured, ‘you’ve been bad. You should’ve popped in to see me, baby.’ Cain hummed, let himself be pulled from his seat by her hand.

‘Maybe you oughta show me how bad I’ve been,’ he purred, grinning at her. Nova hummed and interlaced her hand with his before she led him up the stairs to her room.

The room was almost identical to how Cain remembered it; dingy and slightly damp, and that kind of cold that seeped into your bones and clamped on tight if you weren’t paying attention. Nova removed her jacket and tossed it to the floor, and watched as Cain stripped himself of his scarf and coat, smirk ever-present on his lips. 

As he moved to unbuckle his trousers, Nova stepped forwards and placed her pale hands onto his, stilling him.

‘Keep those on, baby - I wanna try something.’ Cain raised an eyebrow, cocked his head slightly.

‘Can I ask what that might be?’

‘No,’ Nova intoned. ‘No, information is for good boys, and you’ve awful bad, haven’t you?’ This is what Cain missed. Back in Rivet City, you didn’t get any of this, didn’t get any push-and-pull from the people who were willing to sleep with you. The only person Cain’d gotten to get a little rough n’ tumble with had been Harkness, and even then the bastard was serious and overly angry.

So Cain acquiesced, and went about removing his jumper and t-shirt before laying down on the bed. 

Nova chuckled. ‘No, honey. Sit up a sec.’ Cain nodded, though nervousness seeped into his veins as Nova sat on the edge of the bed, her feet touching the moldy wooden floor. She patted her lap, and Cain shuffled over to her.

‘Now then, lay yourself over my lap, honey. I’m gonna show you what happens to naughty boys who don’t treat their women right.’ Nova cooed as Cain nearly threw himself at her, angling his ass up at her. Nova chuckled, and Cain winked up at her, eager.

The first slap was dull, and maybe that had something to do with Cain’s jeans getting in the way, but he still jumped and rocked gently against Nova’s thigh.

‘I want you to count for me, okay sweetheart?’ she drawled, moving her hand along the pale expanse of Cain’s exposed back. Cain nodded, bit his lip, before another strike came down against his ass.

‘One.’ There was another, harder this time, and he let out a small hiss as the strike sent a shooting warmth to his cock. Nova moved slightly, and Cain felt a hand at his fly.

‘I’m gonna pull these down just so I can get to your ass,’ Nova stated, like it was the most natural thing in the world. ‘But no further than that; only good boys get to have sex.’ Cain doesn’t even have time to reply before a hand is brought back down against his ass. He bites back a moan, and feels himself harden. Nova whistles lowly above him.

‘No, no, no, that won’t do, honey; we need you to count. I’m starting again, and if you can get to ten, you get a reward.’ Cain manages to choke out an “okay” against her thigh, and Nova brings a harsh hand down against his ass, eliciting a sharp smack that echoes throughout the room.

‘O-one,’ Cain mumbles, hands trying to find purchase against the bedsheets. Nova hums her approval before delivering another slap against the opposite cheek.

Despite the fact that Cain had come here for a quick fuck, he feels shameful for enjoying the spanking, and the aching of his cock against Nova’s thigh isn’t helping.

‘Two.’ Nova soothes the part of his flesh where ass meets leg, before delivering another smack, sending jolts of blood to Cain’s hard dick.

‘Fuck—three,’ Cain whimpers. Fruitlessly, he grinds down against Nova, tries to gain some sort of friction, but Nova smacks him another two times, sending Cain bright red in both sets of cheeks.

‘F-four, five.’ Cain can hear Nova chuckle above him, and it sends jolts of arousal down to his throbbing cock. He wants to last, fucking hell, he wants to last, but Nova’s doing shit to him he never thought he’d like. He’s always known he was a masochistic bastard, but this is on a whole other playing field.

Nova brings a hand down again, and Cain doesn’t even try to hold in the whine that falls past his lips as he chokes out, ‘Six!’ 

When Nova gets to ten, she shoves Cain onto the bed and removes his boxers before lowering her mouth around his aching cock. Cain stuffs his hands into her hair and virtually cries as she swipes her tongue along the slit of his cockhead, then down a thick vein along the downside of his dick. 

Honest to God, he tries not to buck up too much, but he feels his release pooling in his stomach and he thrusts shakily up into Nova’s mouth, feeling bits of saliva hit his navel as she glides down with practised ease, and he throws his head back against the bed.

‘Shit shit shit shit-’ Cain pants, offers a few garbled apologies to Nova as he nears his release.

Cain chances a glance down, and sees Nova’s hand work beneath herself, small moans and sighs reverberating from her mouth and to his cock.

And that’s what has him spilling over the edge, into Nova’s mouth, with a rushed cry of curses. Cain tugs at his hair as he cums, throws his head back to the headboard with such force he thinks he might have whiplash.

Nova pulls off with a wet pop and covers her mouth as she swallows, before crawling up next to Cain. There’s no doubt she hasn’t cummed yet - Cain can tell - but she still runs a hand through his hair and whispers nothings to him like she’s the one who’s just jizzed down the back of someone’s throat.


	10. Creampie

Pacer didn’t whine when King nipped at the supple skin of his neck, moved his hands down Pacers thighs all tender-like as if he was some sort of chick. He didn’t whine when he felt King’s soft tongue prod his bottom lip as he slipped a warm, lubed finger into Pacer’s tight hole. And he didn’t whine when King managed to find _that_ spot inside of him, and rubbed against it with his finger until Pacer’s cock practically wept with pre-cum.

Pacer didn’t whine, as a rule; didn’t whine during sex, didn’t whine during an argument, didn’t even whine to that Follower’s doctor when she poked at a bullet-wound he’d gotten from those NCR soldier boys.

But God knows he came _damn close_ to it when King started looking at him the way he did, all dewy-eyed and saccharine, as he finally began to slide ever-so-slowly into Pacer’s tight ass.

The only thing that tumbled from his lips as King softly took his jaw in hand, and kissed oh so sweetly into his mouth, was a vaguely compassionate grunt, followed by a heated groan as King ground down _just right_ against his insides.

Pacer gripped King’s shoulders and threw his head back, panted through parted lips. King whispered sweet nothings into his sweaty neck as he thrust rhythmically, hips slapping against Pacer’s plump ass, the sound of skin-against-skin echoing throughout the empty room. King was verbal, though not verbose, and he only whispered the calmest words into Pacer’s hair and neck and lips when he had something to say.

Pacer wrapped a tight fist around his throbbing cock, and King muttered special words against his lips, things that Pacer knew they’d never speak of again.

So he returned the words back to him, gasped them into King’s soft, sweaty hair, muttered garbled nonsense that he hoped to whatever god there may be that King understood him.

Pacer’s hand pumped faster and sloppier, until King brushed it away and replaced it with his own. Pants turned to groans, and groans turned to almost feral gasps, until, eventually, Pacer whined - almost _screamed_ \- spilling over King’s fist and clenching around the thick cock still buried deliciously deep in his ass.

It’s not a picture-perfect finish, where both parties finish at the same time, proclaiming their undying love for each other, but that didn’t make it any less special when King cums deep inside him, biting a brutally-tender mark against Pacer’s pale throat.

When King rolled from him, slid gently from his sore ass, Pacer stared up at the ceiling, heaved lightly. King peppered small kisses to his bare chest, to his stubbled chin, and let his hand wander to Pacer’s hip to roll the plump flesh clemently between his calloused fingers.

Pacer rolled to face King, and, for the second time in his life, when his eyes met the soft, blue ones staring back at him, Pacer whined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I thought I couldn't write meaningful porn...  
> Anyway, this turned out to be really sentimental for some reason. Guess I just see Pacer as a sad kinda guy


	11. Exhibitionism

Cain grunted as the man rutted against his ass, cock straining against his clothed body as the shorter man sucked at the tender flesh behind Cain’s ear. They were just barely in view of Rivet City, and the glowing warmth of the lights from the ship scarcely illuminated the two in the darkness of the D.C. night.

Cain grunted as the man stuffed a hand down his boxers and thumbed at the head of his cock, slicking the shaft with Cain’s own precum. Cain couldn’t really do much, not with his arms being as numb as they were, so he pushed back against the man, trying to move his ass against him in a way which would make sure he felt good.

Apparently, the small gesture worked, and the man choked slightly against Cain’s skin, gasped into his ear, and worked Cain’s dick quicker, sloppier.

Cain grit his teeth and pressed his face against the partially-destroyed building, bit his tongue as the man behind worked his fist quicker, the slick sound of sex seeping its way into the cold night.

Footsteps neared the two and Cain simply bowed his head, allowing his long black hair to shield his face as the man kept up the pace of rutting against him. The footsteps continued until they reached the small space where Cain and the man were, and they suddenly stilled into what Cain would only be able to describe as “stunned silence”.

The man suckled Cain’s scarred throat, whispered something quiet against his skin, and continued to pump him, pushing his clothed erection harder against Cain’s ass so that Cain was almost flush with the wall.

Cain grit his teeth, but let slip a small groan as the man behind him did  _ something  _ with his hand, and muttered a hoarse warning to the man. Cain felt the man nod, his stubble grazing Cain’s throat, and he left a surprisingly gentle kiss against his cheek as he repeated the same motion that made Cain see luminescent stars behind his eyelids.

He cummed not long after, the person who’d been watching them, even then, stood stock still in the night. The man behind Cain worked him through his orgasm, and resolved to simply hump Cain’s leg until he reached his release.

The man behind him gave Cain a tender kiss on the cheek, and tucked something into his back pocket. As the man turned to leave, footsteps rushed off into the wastes before either man could spot them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a short chapter, but I wanted to give y'all something for the New Year


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